Death of a Prince
by Saiyan Goddess
Summary: What would happen if Vegeta DID manage to get that eternal life? This is an angst-ridden fic, and actually the very first fic I ever wrote. Reveiws are VERY wolcome!


The blood-soaked ground of the battlefield stretched out for miles, the stench of death mixing with that of blood and sweat. The bodies of dead men were thick on the ground so that one walking across the field could not find earth enough to set foot on. Blood, sweat and tears mixed with the gentle mist, creating a low red fog over the dead soldiers. No sound could be heard but the wind whipping at the hair and clothing of the soldiers. The ominous silence penetrated the earth. If one should arrive on this battlefield he would be afraid to take a breath, for fear of shattering the dead silence.  
  
Suddenly a movement, as small as the blink of an eye, destroyed the deadly calm. Flick. A finger moved. Then a hand. An arm. Soon the man was kneeling on the ground, surrounded by the dead. His armor was in shambles and his clothing barely managed to cover his bleeding flesh. A long cut stretched across his face from his right temple to his chin. A new scar to add to his collection. Also marring his body were hundred of knife scars on both wrists, on his throat, his chest, his stomach. Every place that a man could mortally wound another had a scar.  
  
Kneeling among the dead, the man looked down at his hands, tears welling up in his eyes. Clenching his fists, he blinked back his tears and reached for the sword of a soldier nearby. Arms stretched in front of him, holding the sword point at his right side, he cursed himself and thrust the sword into his body, pulling it from the right to the left, then finally up the middle to his heart; sepeku.  
  
* * * *  
  
Vegeta slowly opened his eyes. Looking up at the sky, he wondered where he was for a moment. But a single breath brought reality rushing back to meet him. He moved his hand to the side and found the sword covered in blood. His blood. Lifting his head gingerly, he looked at his stomach. His skin was covered in blood and yet another scar was forming. Yet where any normal man, or Saiyan, would have died, Vegeta had not. He let his head fall back on the ground.  
  
"How could I have been so foolish?" he mumbled, not looking for an answer. "I was so stupid. . .so childish to think that eternal life and youth could keep me happy. . ." Tears once more welled up in his eyes. "My wife. . .my son."  
  
It had been nearly two millennia since he'd made his foolish wish and for the past thousand years everyday he lived, the more he wished he hadn't found the dragonballs and wished for immortality. Kami-sama was gone long before Vegeta had grown weary of eternal life, and even Dende-sama's death twelve hundred years ago saw Vegeta only mildly bored with his long life. But with Dende-sama's death, all hopes of death for Vegeta vanished. Dende- sama had not left and heir to the throne of Kami before he died, so Vegeta had taken the position. But Vegeta could not create dragonballs and Dende- sama's had become obsolete with his death.  
  
A few hundred years ago, no longer able to stand the terrors of immortality, Vegeta made his first attempt at suicide. He powered up in an attempt to explode his chi, but he could not. He had the will but his chi would not explode. He then turned to knives. He slit his throat, his wrists, cut open his stomach and chest, but he never died. After slitting his throat and wrists he was weak from blood loss, and it was hard for him to breathe and speak normally after slicing his organs, but they never seemed to be damaged enough to kill him. He had even once found an antiquated phaser gun which he fired at his head, but it would not fire, just as his chi would not explode.  
  
He had finally given up, sinking into depression, killing all he met, and jealous of those he killed. Those who tried to kill him he tortured, as punishment for giving him the hope of death. But soon he stopped even this, tired of seeing men die, tired of being jealous of the dead. His tears watered the earth, and his screams tore it apart.  
  
Vegeta was the strongest man in the universe now. All the foes that he and his friends (he could finally call the Z team friends after two millennia) had considered so strong would have cowered in fear just looking at the Saiyan. Even Kakkarot's son would be no match for Vegeta now. No one could surpass his power.  
  
Looking up at the sky, he realized that the blue was exactly the same shade as Bulma's hair. She had died in an explosion at Capsule Corp. He hadn't realized how much he loved her until she was dead. Trunks had kept him company for some time, but he had died in battle when he was 35. A battle Vegeta was in. A battle Vegeta could have saved his son from. He had considered wishing both of them back, but instead busied himself with becoming stronger, hoping that power would fill the void of emptiness. After two millennia passed, dragonballs gone, he was lonelier than ever.  
  
Standing up, Vegeta transported to Bulma's grave. It had been two thousand years since she died, but Vegeta had made sure no one had come within a mile of the grave. Every hundred years he made a new headstone, and he always made sure there were flowers at her grave.  
  
Kneeling down in front of the headstone, he began to weep. The Saiyan prince, the hard heart which had once taken pride in the fact that he did not, could not, cry, had broken down completely. Tears were no longer uncommon in his eyes. He wept for his wife, for his son. For himself.  
  
Wiping his eyes on the back of a tattered glove, he spoke. "Bulma, I don't know what to do. I want to die. . .I want to be through with my misery. I have no one." He realized that until he married Bulma he had no one, but the end to loneliness had been like sunlight for a creature of the shadows. Blinding at first, but once one has come to love the light, it is cruel to plunge him into the darkness.  
  
"Bulma. . ." The word crept out of his mouth like the desperate words of a man asking for water. "Bulma. . .What should I do? I cannot die, but I cannot live. I want to end my pain and die. . ." Tears slid down the mighty Saiyan's cheeks, making tracks in the dust on his face. Looking up at the sky he screamed. "If there is a god, kill me and send me to hell! I deserve the fire more than I deserve this life! I cannot endure this any longer!" His head swung down and he continued in a whisper, "I cannot even wish my loved ones here, since there are no more dragonballs. . ."  
  
Then, like a bolt from heaven, an idea struck him. There were dragonballs still. Two thousand years ago the Nameks had been wished to a new planet of their own and so long as they still survived and retained the art of creating dragonballs, there was still hope for Vegeta. A smile blossomed on his face.  
  
Standing, he prepared to transport himself to Namek. But suddenly he realized that Namek was no more. Namek had been destroyed by Frieza, which was exactly why the Nameks had been wished to a new planet. Vegeta could not simply transport to the former planet Namek, it no longer existed. He would have to find the new Namek but the universe was so vast it would take and eternity to find a single planet out of the trillions. It seemed his search was over before it even began.  
  
"Vegeta!"  
  
The Saiyan spun around but found no one. He flew high in the air but saw nothing and no one for miles. "What is this?" he asked himself, wondering if he had finally gone insane.  
  
"Vegeta!"  
  
He looked around once more but still found no one. Deciding to play off his insanity, he spoke. "Yes?" he asked doubtfully.  
  
"Ah, good! I was wondering if you heard me!"  
  
"Who is this?" he demanded.  
  
"This is Keio-sama. It seems you've found something very interesting."  
  
"Keio-sama?" Vegeta gasped. "You're dead!"  
  
"Well, yes, but I can still keep an eye on the world from hell."  
  
Vegeta slowly floated to the ground, dumbfounded. He had completely forgotten about Keio-sama after his death. But why would he talk to Vegeta after all this time?  
  
"Anyway," Keio-sama continued, "it seems you've found something very interesting. When you wished for eternal life and youth all those years ago, I hoped you'd have a life like this to teach you a lesson. But now you're absolutely miserable. I realized this a few hundred years ago, but immortality is absolute and there was nothing I could do. But the idea you just had is genius!"  
  
"What idea?" Vegeta asked.  
  
"To go to Neo-Planet Namek and find the dragonballs there."  
  
Vegeta scoffed. "As good an idea as it may have been, it's useless. I do not know where to find this planet and the universe is as unending as my life. It would be almost pointless."  
  
"You don't give me my due credit. I am Keio-sama after all. I know where everything in the universe is."  
  
Vegeta gasped. "You know where the new Planet Namek is? Are there still dragonballs?"  
  
"Of course I know where it is!" Keio-sama retorted. "And yes, there are still dragonballs."  
  
"Good! Give me the coordinates!"  
  
"Wait! Before you go, I want you to promise me something."  
  
Vegeta, never good at promises, choked. "What?!"  
  
"I want you to promise you won't harm any of the Nameks."  
  
Vegeta laughed. "Don't worry about that. I can no longer stand to see people die."  
  
"All right, but if a single Namek dies of unusual circumstances, I'll contact the eldest Namek and tell him to destroy the dragonballs immediately."  
  
Vegeta growled at receiving so little trust. It was not as though he earned it, but he had changed over the past two thousand years. "Just give me the coordinates! I swear not to harm any Nameks!"  
  
"All right. . ." Keio-sama sounded doubtful but gave Vegeta coordinates. "5263 ZB"  
  
"Thank you!" Vegeta said impatiently. e felt for chi in that direction and transported there.  
  
* * * *  
  
Scargo wiped his brow and looked up at the sun. It had been a hard day working with the Hydrangea forests. It had been 2,000 years since their people had moved from Namek to this new planet and in that time their society had flourished. Even their few trees, once just saplings, had grown into a magnificent forest that was beginning to blanket the planet.  
  
Scargo had been checking each of the trees for disease for the past few hours. Although it was boring, he knew it was for the good of his people and his planet. He worked hard and happily, glad he could do a service for his people.  
  
He was just about to return to his village when he saw a man walking toward him. This would not normally distress the steadfast Namek, but this man was completely different from him. He had skin the color of sand and some huge black thing growing out of his head. It was nothing like the Nameks' antennae. The man's clothing was ripped and his armor was shattered. He was also covered in scars and something Scargo decided must be blood, though of a red shade, rather than the purple hue of his own.  
  
"M-may I help you?" he called out to the stranger.  
  
"The man nodded. "Yes. I am looking for a village." Seeing the fear in the Namek's eyes he shook his head. "I am not here to harm any of the natives."  
  
This did not really reassure Scargo (he had heard that a few millennia ago, men like this destroyed Namek) but the man did need a bath and new clothes. "This way," he said, motioning towards his village.  
  
The two walked in silence until they reached a group of houses in a clearing. Scargo began calling out the others in his native tongue and everyone quickly appeared: old men, young men and children. The elders eyed the foreigner suspiciously while the children looked on in wonder.  
  
Finally someone stepped forward. "Welcome, stranger. My name is Caracol and I am the elder here. We will give you new clothing and a bath, after which I have many questions for you." He directed the young men to take the stranger to bathe while he and the others walked back into their houses.  
  
After taking a bath and studying his new Namekian clothing with mild distaste, the man met with the elder.  
  
"It is obvious that you are not form this world," Caracol said. "Although the Namekian people have had very bad experiences with foreigners, I do not wish to pass judgment on you without first hearing why you have come to our planet."  
  
"My name is Vegeta. I was part of Namek's destruction two thousand years ago but I mean no harm to you now."  
  
The elder shook his head "That is impossible. The Saiyan lifespan is not much longer than the human lifespan. That is, very short, even fleeting. If you are who you say you are, you'd have to be at least two thousand years old. That's not only impossible even for the long-lived members of my race, but 1900 years past the average of your claimed race."  
  
"You don't understand. I wished for eternal life and youth with the dragonballs on earth."  
  
"Then why are you here?"  
  
"I need the dragonballs again."  
  
The elder looked at the ground, almost dreading the words he said. "I'm sorry, but I'm sure you know that I cannot give you the dragonballs."  
  
"Why?" Vegeta asked, a bit more impatiently than he intended.  
  
The elder looked him squarely in the face. "Because I am afraid of how you would use them. No one on this planet remembers when Namek was destroyed, but our fathers and grandfathers were there. They told us what happened and how men like you were never to be trusted. They told us how your people destroyed our planet and while we are very glad that the earthlings found us a suitable home here, we are still quite reluctant to hand over dragonballs to foreigners."  
  
"There must be some way I can convince you to give me your dragonball. I must have them!"  
  
The elder looked down once more. "We will give the dragonballs to others, but only under certain circumstances. You must have a contest of wits or strength or explain why you want the dragonballs. However, I do not wish to have you compete with one of the young men in strength. If you truly are a Saiyan, and truly are over two thousand years old, the odds would be very unfairly stacked. I also do not wish you to compete in wits. At two thousand years old you would possibly be even more wise than I, or even the eldest Namek. That only leaves an explanation of you wish, but I do not believe that I will agree with it. If I do not, I will hold out until the end, even if you kill everyone in this village." He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst.  
  
As much as Vegeta wanted to kill the Namek right then and there, he refrained, wisely pushing down his anger and speaking as calmly as possible. "I will explain my wish. And if you still do not wish to give me the dragonball, I will leave quietly and look for the others."  
  
"Fine. But I have already warned you that I will most likely not agree."  
  
Vegeta nodded. "If I can collect the seven dragonballs, I will forfeit my first two wishes."  
  
At this Caracol's head snapped up. "What?"  
  
"I will forfeit my first two wishes to the people of this planet. Anything the Great Elder commands me to wish, I will wish for. However, I want the last wish for myself."  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
"I will wish to die."  
  
The Namek looked at him quizzically. "I don't understand."  
  
Vegeta sighed wearily. "I have been alive for two thousand years. My planet was long since destroyed. The earth is falling into disarray and will probably soon collapse in on itself. I have become the strongest warrior in the universe and no one would dare challenge me. But more than anything, I have no one. My wife and son died and I have nothing else to live for. I want to die because life is not worth living if it's lived like this."  
  
The elder considered this. "It is true that you no longer have truly evil chi. . .and your intentions are good. But first, I wish to see that you truly are immortal and will use this wish for your death rather than for the deaths of others." Producing a long, slim knife from a wooden box, he nodded to Vegeta. "If I may."  
  
Vegeta smiled. "It's useless, but go ahead."  
  
Caracol walked to the Saiyan and slit his throat ear to ear in one swift motion. Blood came pouring forth and in a few seconds, Vegeta had collapsed on the ground, drained from blood loss. The elder had nearly convinced himself that the "Saiyan" was dead, when he saw that Vegeta was still breathing. Eyes wide with surprise, he called for the young men to clean him up and give him a bed to rest in. Hardly an hour had passed before Vegeta woke up. "Eh?" he asked groggily.  
  
Caracol smiled down at him. "It's seems you are immortal. Whether you are a Saiyan is of no consequece. Depending on your race, that cut could be anywhere from fatal to a mere scratch. But the knife I had was coated in the strongest known poison in the universe. There is no antidote and no mortal race strong enough to survive it. Only the gods and dragons can fight off it's toxins, and only because they are immortal." He pulled a dragonball from behind him. "You have earned it, my friend."  
  
And so it went. Vegeta traveled from one village to the next, seeking out power levels and dragonballs. He showed the prize the first elder had reward him with and the other elders, seeing that a dragonball had been peaceably surrendered, did not give much resistance to awarding the Saiyan with the last six he needed.  
  
Finally, he had all seven dragonballs him his possession and the Namekian password to make them work. The Great Elder had also given him the wishes of the people. Setting the balls in the dust near a lake, he raised his hands to the sky and called out the password. The dragonballs began to glow, a blinding light radiating from the orange balls. With a sudden flash, the great dragon, Porunga, appeared in the sky.  
  
"What do you wish of me?" he asked in a deep voice.  
  
Vegeta smiled. The Eldest Namek had also taught him enough Namekian to make the wishes. In the native tongue, he spoke. He thought the wishes were a bit foolish, he who had always been power hungry and driven to war by his Saiyan blood, but he spoke the words as he promised. "I wish that the whole planet, minus villages and bodies of water, be covered with Hydrangea plants."  
  
"As you wish," Porunga said, and Vegeta flew into the air carrying the dragonballs to avoid being hit by a tree.  
  
When the planet was blanketed with the strange plants, Vegeta settled to the ground and went on. "I wish for peace to reign on this planet, never to be shattered by wars or foreign invaders."  
  
"As you wish." The dragon's eyes glowed and after a moment he said, "Your wish has been granted. What is your final wish?"  
  
"I wish for my own death."  
  
Porunga's eyes glowed once more and Vegeta closed his eyes, thinking of his family, and suddenly he was gone. He did not hear the dragon proclaim that his wish had been granted, nor did he see the dragonballs fly off to every corner of the globe in a magnificent spectacle of light. The Saiyan prince lay on Namekian ground, never to be raised again. A smile rested on his face as his soul soared to meet his family in the afterlife. 


End file.
